You Don't Stop Living Because You Lose Somebody
by roseateglow
Summary: Two years after losing Johnny and Dallas, Ponyboy experiences an even more difficult to handle loss. Chapter 1 of 2 up.


A/N: Events in The Outsiders occur in (I think) May 1966, a month after Ponyboy has turned fourteen. This story occurs in early June 1968, two months after he's turned sixteen. Ponyboy has just finished his junior year of high school and is looking forward to the summer before his senior year. This story will be (hopefully)two chapters, and I hope you all enjoy it! Please R&R!

The last bell signals freedom! I've never been so happy for school to end, and that's saying something, because normally I love school. But this is the last day of my junior year and I can't wait to get home and show Darry my report card--all A's. He'll be proud of me and grin and tell me he knew I could do it. Then I'll write to Soda and tell him, and I know he'll be proud of me too. I can just see him, sitting in underneath a canopy of trees reading my letter, grinning, maybe showing Steve or his other friends, laughing, telling everyone how smart his kid brother is.

I miss Soda. He's been gone six months, and I won't ever forget the day Darry, Two-Bit and I went down with Soda and Steve to the train station to see them off. Two-Bit isn't the kind of person who'd ever go to war, and Darry had to stay behind because of me, something I was sure he didn't regret because Darry hated war just as much as I did. Soda and Steve laughed and joked the whole time, but I could look at Soda's eyes and see that he was real scared. Evie, Steve's girlfriend and Claire, Soda's girlfriend, stood with us, clinging to Steve and Soda, sobbing their eyes out. I remember rolling my eyes and thinking, girls, but I was near crying myself. I didn't know when I was going to see my brother again, and that scared me more than anything. I wished I wasn't fifteen, even if I am small for my age. I wished I were five, or even ten. I was too embarrassed to cry in public anymore. So I pulled my coat tighter around my shoulders and tried to look tough. Soda pulled me aside and hugged me. To be honest, I started bawling all over his new uniform, and then I felt horrible for it. He just grinned in his reckless way and patted me on the back. When I finally stopped crying enough to let him go, he put a hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye, said, "See you later, kiddo," turned, hugged Darry and Two-Bit, kissed Claire for what looked like the fiftieth time, and got on the train with Steve. He peered from the window and waved fiercely at us, and I couldn't stop waving, even after the train disappeared from the station, until Darry put his hand on my shoulder and whispered softly that it was time to go.

"Darry!" I call, dropping my things on the couch in the front room. There's no answer. He's not home yet, which is odd. He usually comes home early on report card days. At the end of last semester, we even went out to a nice restaurant to celebrate. I can wait, though. I head into the kitchen and fix myself a sandwich and a glass of milk. The place looks a lot nicer than it did two years ago, when the walls were cracking and the wallpaper was peeling. Mom and Dad would have been horrified to see the house in the condition it was in, so the three of us decided to fix the place up. Darry used to bring things from work, and Soda would bring home wallpaper and paint, and together we'd work until it was suppertime. Sometimes Two-Bit or Steve would drop by and give us a hand. We managed to clear out the spare bedroom, which we'd been putting all of our junk into. Once we got it clearer out, Soda moved into there. With Soda gone though, it's empty again, but I like sitting on the bed and imagining he's only still working at the DX station late into the night and he'll be back soon. It's hard when your favorite brother is gone. Darry helps, but he and I don't talk like I can talk with Soda. Hard as he tries, Darry can't make up for how close Soda and I are. Even without Soda, though, Darry and I don't fight anymore. He might still yell at me if he catches me daydreaming when I should be doing my homework but we've come to an understanding. I know that Darry only wants me to have the chance he didn't get, and Darry knows that I'm not like exactly like him, that I have to dream.

"Pony?" That's Darry, coming from his bedroom. So he's home after all! I almost leap up to greet him, but something about his voice and the way he looks when he comes in the room is bothering me. His eyes are red—he's been crying!

"Darry? What's wrong?" He blinks and stares at me. The last time I ever saw Darry cry was during those horrible days after Johnny died and Dally got killed. And it wasn't really crying then, just sobbing. But his eyes are so red; I know something serious has happened. He's clutching two sheets of paper in his hand so tightly one of them is starting to tear.

"Darry?"

He sits next to me on the couch and hands me the letters. The first is from Soda. I can tell at once because it's his messy handwriting, the way he crosses out words even though he's using a pencil. I could never figure outwhy he was just too lazy to flip the pencil over.

_26 May 1968_

_Dear Darry and Ponyboy,_

_I miss you guys. Steve says hey, and will you tell Claire and Evie we said hi? Two-Bit too. How's things in Tulsa? It's still pretty hot here, but the trees keep us cool. It is real strange here, very different from home. We have to patrol everyday to find the damn enemy which we don't find most of the time. So far we have had two surprise attacks this week. You have to watch out where you walk cause there are traps and snipers all over the place. We have barbecues every day when we aren't getting bombed to bits which is nice. Usually it gets real hot until you can't stand it, but luckily this whole damned place is almost a forest so there is some shade. Pony, you'd like it here if there wasn't a war. I got a camera from someone and got some pictures of me and Steve for everyone at home. I can't wait to be home. Pony, listen to Darry and don't get into no trouble while I'm gone. Darry, you do the same thing. Send me your report card Pony and I can put it in my scrapbook for when I get home. Well I have to go. Take care. I sure miss you guys. Love from your brother,_

_Sodapop Curtis._

I looked over at Darry, who wasn't looking at me; instead he's still looking at the letter in his hands. I move to take it from him.

"You're a fast reader." He says quietly, handing me the other letter. It was official looking, and it looked brief and to the point. Suddenly I was starting to understand why Darry had been crying. I didn't want to read this letter, with its official looking seal, but I couldn't stop myself from doing it.

29 May 1968  
_Dear Sir or Madam: _

_Your son, PFC S. P. Curtis, was killed in action on May 27, 1968. His body and personal effects will be delivered to you within two weeks. All funeral expenses will be paid in full._

Suddenly, the world around me went reeling. I knew what it was going to say before I finished reading the date andit still comes as a shock to me. All at once, I suddenly felt very sick. How funny they don't know our parents are dead too. Too?Oh God, Soda's really dead! I don't remember screaming, but Darry says I did, but how could I if I don't remember? It's funny that I don't remember that, but I remember Darry looking real scared and saying my name. And I can't see him suddenly as my eyes fill up with tearsand maybe I did scream because now I can't hear Darry calling my name anymore. My brain tells meto beglad that the school year is over. Missing days really hurt my grades last time. I try laughing but I just starting bawling, because it makes me think of Soda, and now I won't be able to send him anymore letters, and he's really dead.And my grade report is still tucked neatly into my binder.


End file.
